


Libertia

by CharacterOfYours



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Meta, Monsters, Swords
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharacterOfYours/pseuds/CharacterOfYours
Summary: A child is sent to their own fictional world shortly after it is torn to shreds. They soon learn that it isn't just a fictional world, but a live one that has consequences for the decisions they made as its writer.





	1. Prologue

#  Prologue

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Her name was Lilith. Unlike me, she wasn’t tied down to her world by responsibilities that she didn’t choose for herself, and that’s how she always wanted to stay. She was just a character, until I started seeing her everywhere. It was an overbearing fantasy that followed me through classes in school, into my home, and into my relationships.  
Her story was a messy one, but that wasn’t the point. I poured everything I had into it- every experience that pained me and every emotion I couldn’t handle. That may have stunted me, but it was the one thing that kept me happy, despite everything. 

__

  


They sat in their dark room, scribbling away in a small purple notebook. The sun was just setting over the trees outside their open window. But they were oblivious to the fading daylight. 

Their focus was on the story. 

“Lilith climbed over the machine’s broken husk and stared over the bloodsoaked battlefield. On the opposite side, she spotted the key to ending all of the fighting: A single golden crown resting on top of a Lumberjack’s head.”

“The man ordered his fleet of wolves to attack a giant that was stomping his soldiers into dust, then to a stormcloud that was burning down hundreds of his mechanical men in seconds, and then at her. A cold shock rippled down her spine. He’d seen her from across the huge field. And as she squinted to see his expression up close, he flashed a wicked smile filled with pointed teeth, and mouth the words, You’re finished. The wolves set off towards her position.”

They took a deep, satisfied breath. After working for two years, they had finally gotten that far in the story. The sound of clashing swords echoed in their mind restlessly, eager for the project to be completed. Once the king was dead, everything would be okay again. 

But they were snapped out of it when the door rattled in its frame. It was locked, but someone on the other side continued struggling against it wordlessly. 

“I’ll get it! Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d locked it!” What a phony excuse. There’s no way their mother would believe that. They reached for the door, before remembering their notebook. Snatching it off their desk, they pitched it into the dark abyss of their closet. They fumbled with the lock for a few moments, but they couldn’t open it as long as the woman on the other side kept her tight grip on the handle. Her anger permeated through the wood like a tangible stench. She didn’t like being locked out. 

“Mom, let go,” they asked quietly. As the woman slowly released the handle, her child let out a deep sigh. 

When they did finally open the door, her expression was of icy calm. 

“Hello,” they said nervously, ducking back into their room. Their mother stepped past them, looking around at the shining lamp, and at the open window, which let in a breeze that made the whole room chilly. 

“You’re going to get a cold,” she said, closing it.

“Sorry.”

“Why’re you up?” She sat on the bed, pulling her child into a hug. 

“Uh- Sorry- I couldn’t sleep,” they said, staring at nothing. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re feeling down, d’you want to go to church tomorrow?”

“It’s alright. Martha’s coming early.”

“Oh.” She was disappointed. 

“Sorr- !”

“You need friends who wake up later,” their mother’s laugh was strained. 

“You’re going to church anyway, so it’s no problem.” They put on a weak smile, hoping she wouldn’t extend the conversation. But that was the moment that she noticed the chink in their armor. 

She dropped her smile, rolling her eyes. “You forgot your pen.” Shocked, they looked down at the pen glinting menacingly in the room’s dim light. What a stupid, tiny thing to forget. 

She asked, “Where’s the book?” They didn’t move. 

“You shouldn’t be up this late, anyway.” She said coldly. Her voice was controlled, and her eyes were cold. Her gaze remained, relentlessly, on her child. They suppressed a shiver, clenching the pen their slippery hands.

And then she repeated herself, “Where’s the book.” That time, it wasn’t a question. It was an order. Their mind dissolved into fog as they stood and inched towards the open maw of the closet. They were between a cold, unfeeling creature, ready to snap its carnivorous teeth shut as soon as they approached, and the place they kept their clothes. Both were dangerous, in that moment, but the child had no choice. They had to give up their most prized possession. 

As they knelt to pick the book out of the laundry hamper, they reassured themselves with the facts: She won’t read it. She doesn’t care. She’ll take it and leave. You’ll get it back. You’ll get it back. A tiny bit of strength returned to them. It would be okay.

“You know what? You make no effort to get better,” their mother appeared behind them, and ripped the book from their hand, “You still do this fucking trash, while I’m here doing my best. For you.” She tapped her foot impatiently. The child was still kneeling, but they were stunned. Having the book taken from them was so different from handing it in willingly, they suddenly felt sick. 

“And you say nothing!” She scoffed, “Even when I try to talk to you! You speak little and think too much! Talk to me!”

“Mom, please . . . the book back . . . please,” they muttered under their breath, stumbling over their words because even speaking that much in front of her was taboo. Their eyes never left the book. 

She turned away with it, so they couldn’t see what she was doing. But they heard, and their stomach turned to lead. 

“Please, Mom.” 

“No! You spend too much time with this thing! I warned you enough times!” Each rip in the pages wrenched through their gut, like their mother was clawing directly into them and not their most prized possession. They watched the pieces of their story fall to the ground in a ring around their mother’s sloped shadow. Suddenly, tears were in their eyes. _Pathetic._ What a thing to cry over. 

When their mother turned around, she looked down at her child with a set jaw and steely determination. But when she saw their tears, her eyes went soft at their edges. She brushed a gentle hand over their shoulder, smiling reassuringly. She did not want them to cry. 

“There there,” she said softly. “This is for the best.” They didn’t look at her when she squeezed them into a hug. They tried to push her away, but she only tightened her embrace. They were told that Martha couldn’t come over the next day because they were going to have some mother-daughter time. The only obstacle between them had been taken out of the picture, finally, so they were going to mend their broken bond.


	2. We're Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the writer meets their character.

They were in the tight embrace of thick cotton blankets, submerged in warm pockets of air that carried the nice smell of fresh air and morning dew. Something light like a butterfly’s wing fell onto their cheek, but they could only just reach out and sense it.

They rolled over slipped back into their dreams.

The void wasn’t empty. They could discern shapes in it, shifting and colliding, like a shadowy kaleidoscope. But they could only see bits and pieces of the spectrum of colors forming within, like the rest of it wasn’t meant for their eyes. Above them was a celestial heart radiating those invisible shapes and colors, pulsing painfully whenever they stared too long. So they dropped their eyes low respectfully. They were only a mortal, but the remnants of the heart’s image made them smile in appreciative awe.

When they looked ahead, they faced someone much taller than themselves. A lady, as tall as two humans, towered over them. She was wearing a small white shirt and large white bloomers- her pajamas. Her sharp features were silhouetted by the intense white glare coming from a tear behind her. The tear was a space of pure light like a rip in the void. It was the opposite of the heart, which gave the void life. The tear sucked everything away.

When they saw the woman, they called, “Lilith! I was thinking about you!” Lilith turned and smiled.

She bowed playfully, “At your service. You must be the Writer.” They nodded. She asked, “What are you doing here in my dream?”

“Uh- I dunno.”

She shrugged, “Well, you shouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“Well, to write is to try and reinvent the Writer’s word, right? It’s forbidden, so what does it mean that I’m dreaming about you?” Lilith sat down on a transparent floor cross-legged, and her serene smile dropped into a frown. “Are you here to tell me to stop writing?”

“No, of course not.”

The Writer walked over, sitting down across from their creation.

Lilith was different up close. She had wavy dark black hair that curled up at her shoulders. Her skin was pale green, like the bark of an Aspen tree. Her eyes were black pearls, as they had imagined. And scars lined her face from the years she’d spent training to be a warrior. Her arms were lined with muscles- a detail the Writer had never imagined her with before. And yet, there they were, in vivid detail.

“You’re different,” They leaned closer to inspect the details before meeting Lilith’s inquisitive eyes, so they sat back abruptly and averted their gaze with a flushed frown. Lilith chuckled. Her laugh was a fluttery instrument, beautiful and perfect.

In a moment of silence, the two found themselves looking into the tear. They both knew it lead to somewhere else- somewhere _outside_ , but they didn’t know where. Looking at its intense light made the Writer’s eyes burn. So they looked away, embarrassed by their weakness, but Lilith stared directly into it, unwavering.

They said, “Um, everyone’s supposed to think writing’s forbidden.”

“What?”

“What you said just now- that writing is forbidden and to write is to intrude on my word- whatever. I designed it that way on purpose.”

“Why?”

“I designed this world to have writers, right? I just did it to create conflict, so I made it forbidden. It’s not really that complicated. People are actually supposed to write to expand the world and, y’know, progress. But they’re not allowed to.” They sighed. The Writer looked down at themself, but found that there was nothing there. They had no body. No arms or legs to anchor them down to a single spot. They only saw the swirling void below, and it sent a shiver down their spine.

“This is a dream,” they realized with a shaky voice.

=“I know,” Lilith sighed. But from her tone, it felt like she thought it was hers. But that was wrong. 

“Wait, “ They were about to protest, but they faltered. With a frown, they tried to locate a hand, finding that they couldn’t feel one. Maybe that’s why the light from the tear hurt them. They were just a part of the void- trapped in a dream. They couldn’t hope to look out there.

As if reading their thoughts, Lilith chimed, “Just because this is my dream doesn’t mean you’re not real. You could be someone I know in real life. Or, it could mean we’re both made up. Two false identities making up one internal argument in someone else’s head.”

“That would explain why I know what you’re going to say,” the Writer said. 

“That would definitely be it, or it could be that you’re the Writer, and knowing that is your purpose.” Lilith felt at her cheek- the same spot where the Writer had felt something on theirs not long before, when they were awake.

“You feel it too,” said the Writer. “What is it?”

“Probably another petal from Dad’s plant. I keep meaning to move it, but I’m always procrastinating ‘cause it looks nice next to the bed.”

“Is it the tree? The one with the pink flowers and the really dark . . . bark?”

“Dark bark,” Lilith laughed. “Yeah, that’s the one. Hold on, let’s see if I can- “ She closed her eyes and reached out. The Writer felt a tug on their edge of their being as her hand passed through the spot that should have been their gut. Then they found themselves moving, unwillingly, through the void towards the tear. They gasped and looked to Lilith, who was slowly being dragged beside them. 

Then the void around them turned to liquid. Suddenly waves had swallowed them, their jagged edges grinding them up into tiny particles in a void sea as they dragged them both towards the glowing tear. 

They collided with the edge of the crumbling void, and they were filtered through its microscopic grates. They poured out the other side as one.


End file.
